The 51st Hunger Games SYOT
by SummerWind345
Summary: 24 will go in. 1 will come out. Who will emerge victor? SYOT closed
1. Tribute Form

Hey guys! Please submit tributes through p.m. You can submit up to three tributes, and please make them realistic. Here's the form:

Name:

Age:

District:

Gender:

History:

Family:

Reaped or Volunteered:

Weapon of Choice:

Appearance:

Personality:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Training score:

Opening Ceromony Outfit:

Reaping Outfit:

Interview angle:

Interview Outfit:

Allies?:

Preferred Death:

Thanks and please submit


	2. The Tributes

**Final Tribute List: **

District One:

Female: Ivory Kortona, 17- JustAnotherAthenaGirl

Male: Micah Alberts, 17- Guest

District Two:

Female: Demetria Weeks, 17- Flora

Male: Micheal Haywood, 18- Lil Killer16

District Three:

Female: Dayta Pacific, 14- Andia

Male: Alexandrix Coastline, 16- Rue and Prim

District Four:

Female: Claudia Dell, 15- new york eyes chicago thighs

Male: Alexis Carter, 16- someoneorother123

District Five:

Female: Melanie Durswell, 13- Guest

Male: Johnson Pierre, 15- Abi

District Six:

Female: Gracelyn McDonald, 14- someoneorother123

Male: Carter Axis, 17- Alize-Zenobia

District Seven:

Female: Senna Rawood, 17- SheerwaterPhoenix

Male: Colin Wagner, 13- Alize-Zenobia

District Eight:

Female: Alizia Riverden, 12- Guest Graci Bel

Male: Jace Malik, 18- Sharkeisha

District Nine:

Female: Natalia Runner, 13- someoneorother123

Male: Isaac Morton, 17- CoffeeQueenDemigod

District Ten:

Female: Knox Morgan, 16- Guest

Male: Marx Ellington, 15- Ellie

District Eleven:

Female: Aricia Rivendell, 18-SheerwaterPhoenix

Male: William "Will" Malcom, 15- Alize-Zenobia

District Twelve:

Female: Avriana Daphne, 15- oxxariaxxo

Male: Stirling Ravenwood, 18- Rue and Prim


	3. I'll Never Be Worthy

**Ivory Kortona POV**

"Ivory!"

"Ivory!" My name rings out, my mothers powerful voice pierces the air once again. I scramble to my closet and search through it before deciding on a slim fitting, deep purple ruffle blouse and a straight black pencil skirt with matching black pumps. Perfect. Of course, I want to look my best today.

After all, its my year.

Its my reaping.

"Ivory!"

"I'm coming!" I snap. I run downstairs, my mother is already standing there, her sharp green eyes stare into mine. She's where I get my looks from. We both have white blonde hair and pale skin. In fact one of our only diffrences is that I have icy blue eyes, her on the other hand, has sharp, emerald green eyes.

"Ivory, remember your promise," she says in a serious tone.

"I WILL volunteer, and I'm going to win," I say confedently.

"Remember, you're not going to end up like Diamond." I cringe at the name. Diamond. My soft, good-for-nothing, older sister

_** Flashback**_

_I watch excitedly as twelve-through-eighteen year olds are herded to their sections. I wear the proud, everlasting smirk my mother taught me, watching the twelve year olds cower as they are herded through the square. Even though, I was twelve myself, it was different for me. I was going to volunteer one day, one day I was going to win, bring pride to my District. I knew I was going to win one day. I've been training for these games ever since I was five years old, so how was I not going to win?_

_I feel a hand on my shoulder as I walk over to get my finger pricked. I turn my head around to see my seventeen-year-old sister, Diamond, her emerald green eyes wide with worry. Diamond and I were never really alike. She wouldn't hurt a fly, I have been training for the games ever since I could remember, I have been trained and groomed to have to urge to kill and like it. She has auburn hair and green eyes, I had white blonde hair that desended to the middle of my back and pale blue eyes. She kneels down to match my small height. _

_"Ivory, just know if your name is ever called, I'll volunteer for you little sister, I promise," she says. Anger blooms in my chest and I feel my face begin to become hot. Her volunteer for me! That had to be the cruelest joke I've ever heard. I, a brave ruthless warrior from District One be saved by a soft, sorry excuse of a sister! _

_"Diamond." I hiss. "If you ever volunteer for me, ever, I will personally slit your throat before you even have time to get on that train."_

_She stumbles back, offended, shock covers her once calm face. She opens her mouth, as if to say something, but closes it and walks away._

_That was five years ago, and to this day, Diamond and I haven't spoken a word to each other. She got married and moved away from the family a few months after the reaping, hence it is why she now goes by a different last name. Diamond Bendel. Good. She never deserved to be called a Kortona, she never had what it took._

_**Flashback**_

**Micah Alberts POV**

I pick on the spear, it feels light and weightless in my grasp. I wield it in dummys diection, it soars towards it, like a bullet would with a helpless, unsusecting fawn. I am probably one of the best students in the training center. I hate it. It's awful.

I'm awful.

You see, I wouldn't even be a student here, I wouldn't be the monster I am if it weren't for my father. Ever since I could walk, my father has forced me to train for the games. He tried to volunteer for the hunger games when he was eighteen, but got beaten to stage when he tried. Ever since I was born I haven't heard the end of it. To him I'll never be worthy until I win the games. I'll just be a useless excuse of a son he has been forced to raise.

I'll be nothing to him.

My spear strikes the dummy's heart. I wonder if I will kill anyone in the arena when I volunteer. The thought frightens me. If it were up to me, I wouldn't be a student at the training center, I wouldn't have to volunteer for the games, I wouldn't have to walk out of that arena a blood stained and cold blooded murderer. I wouldn't have to be the monster that I am. I just sigh. I have to volunteer. Make my father proud of me. And I can't change that. I run my hand through my golden blonde hair, daydreaming about what life would be like if there were no such thing as the hunger games, or the dark days.

"Hey Micah! Gonna stand there all day?" a new voice calls out.

I jump with suprise and whip my head around to find who the voice belongs to. It's my friend, Victor.

"Hey Vic," I mutter as I quickly walk by him. I walk out the room, out the training center and onto the sidewalk, lost in my thoughts.

**Ivory Kortona POV**

I strut proudly to the square, wearing my famous everlating smirk. This is my reaping, my year. I get my finger pricked and walk over to the seventeen year old girls section. Most of the girls are glaring at me, their faces hot with fury and their eyes glow with jealousy. I just smirk at them. Finally, when the clock strikes two o' clock the mayor springs up from his folding chair and makes a speech about the dark days and the history of Panem. Finally he introduces our freakishly perky escort, Vera. She goes on for a while about what on honor it is to be here and all that stuff. Just get on with it. Finally she finishes with the usual "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

She prances over to the girl's reaping ball and plucks one from the very top.

"Our luck female tribute is... Gem-"

"I volunteer as tribute!" I shout as loudly as I can. I sprint proudly to stage, not even waiting for the crowd to split open for me.

"My, what a brave young woman! May I ask you your name dear?" Vera gushes.

"Ivory Kortona. And I'm your next victor," I say, my voice booms with confedence.

"Best of luck to you, Ivory. Now let's pick a male to join you!" she announces.

She prances over to the boy's reaping ball and fishes one out from the bottom. I swear, before I could hear the first syllable, a voice screams out, "I volunteer as tribute!" A muscular looking boy who looks to be about my age with golden blonde hair and piercing brown eyes sprints out from the crowd and onto the stage next to Vera. I've seen him around in the training center. He's good with spears. He never misses his target. Never. He'll be a hard one to beat.

"What's your name young man?"

"Micah Alberts," the boy mutters.

"Well best of luck to you Micah! Now hands you two!" she do, his dark brown eyes stare into mine the entire time.

**Whoo Hoo! That's one District down! Okay, before you go, I need you to answer one question:**

**1. Who's your favorite of the two?**


	4. I'll Be Victorious

**Whoo Hoo! School's out, which means I have more time write Yay! * begins singng 'No more pencils, no more books, no more teacher's dirty looks* Any way, here's District Two! Hope you enjoy!**

**Demetria Weeks POV**

"Take that!" I yell as I successfully disarm my opponent. That to easy. Of course she didn't stand a chance against me, even though she was a trainer and all that. I wipe a layer of sweat from my forehead and run my hand through my thick black hair. I smile arogantly. At this hour, the training center is still dark, but the early morning light flows through the windows.

"Demetria, remember today's the reaping," Alphia says, breaking our silence.

"How could I forget?" I say sarcastically, as I turn to face her. She just shrugs. Today, I am going to volunteer. And nothing is going to stop me. "I'll see you after I win," I say to Alphia before packing up my things and walking back home to get ready for the reaping.

**Micheal Haywood POV**

"Micheal!

Micheal!" I hear someone call. My little brother, Jason bounds into my bedroom.

"Micheal, today you're going to volunteer!" he exclaims excitedly. I smile.

"Of course I am," I reply.

"You're gonna win!" he exclaims, before rushing out of my room in excitement. I quickly change in a white shirt and black dress pants and then run downstairs. Dad is at the table reading the newspaper, mom is cooking breakfast, and Jason is jumping up and down in excitment. I live the victor's villiage. Of course I'm not a victor- father won when he was eighteen. So did my grandfather. I guess I'm carrying on some kind of legacy.

"Michael, are you sure you want to do this?" mom asks, her expression is worried, almost as if she is going to be sick.

"I'm sure mom. I'm going to win," I say arrogantly. I don't mean to sound big headed or arrogant about it, but I am one of the best fighters in District Two. And in a matter of time, I will be a victor.

"Guys come on! We're going to be late for the Reaping!" I shout.

The walk goes by quickly, as the victors' village is only a short walk away from the square. I stride proudly to the square, I want everyone here to see me, remember me. I get my finger pricked and walk over to the eighteen year olds section. On stage with the rest of our victors is dad. Right now he is talking to the escort, a woman callled Caecillia with electric blue hair and a lime green dress. He catches my eye, I give a curt nod, to show that I will volunteer, that I am eager to do so.

**Demetria Weeks POV**

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" squeaks Caecillia, our ridiculously perky escort. My fists shake was pure excitment. When she says "Now let's select our female tribute"

A joyous feeling spreads quickly across my body as she yanks a slip from the girls reaping ball.

"Estonia -"

Before she even has time to finish the name about five girls from the section race towards the stage. I pump my legs harder and harder to the point where they as if they are on fire. But I don't stop. I feel a yank on my hair as a girl pushes in front of me. Anger surges through me as she races toward stage. I curl my fingers into a fist and punch the side of her face with such force, it nearly knock the girl unconious. I zip onto stage next to Caecillia, dead tired but content.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" I shout proudly into the microphone. My voice echos through the District for everyone to hear.

"What's your name dear?" Caecillia asks, her voice full of thrill and excitment.

"Demetria Weeks."

"Is there any relation to Sparticus Weeks?" she asks stupidly. My fists shake at the mere mention of him, he's my brother but he's, gone. He's dead. DEAD! He died in the games what, 3-4 years ago. He lost a duel to the District Four boy, even though he had injured him horribly. I heard he lost both of his legs to slash wounds caused by Sparticus. I'm so glad he did that. That boy from District Four deserved it.

"Yes." I mutter angrily. I hate her for mentioning him.

"Time for the males!" she shouts excitedly.

**Micheal Haywood POV **

I watch as a muscular looking aisan girl race up stage. I reconize her as Demetria Weeks. She doesn't have a weakness, I swear. I've seen her during training hours, fighting with every kind for weaon imaginable. A sword, spears, knives, bow arrows, anything that could kill.

"Time for the males!" Caecillia thrills. She waltzes over to the males reaping ball.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I shout excitedly as she is about to pluck a name out. A rush of adrenlaine goes through me as I sprint on stage. 'I'm in', I think. I'm in.

"What's your name young man?"

"Micheal Haywood," I reply confedently.

"Well splendid! Another Haywood!" she gushes.

We are then instructed to shake hands. And we do. Her brown eyes pierce mine, and wears a bloodthirsty smirk. And I can't help it. I do to.

"Ladies and Gentleman may I present your tributes from District Two, Demetria Weeks and Michael Haywood!"

**Okay, so that's District Two! I'll try and get the other Districts as soon as possible, I promise! Okay its time for review questions!**

**1. Who is your favorite of the two?**


	5. Just One Day

**Dayta Pacific POV**

I stare up at the blank wall, focusing on a small crack. I gave up on sleeping hours ago, horrific images of past hunger games lurk in my head. I finally decide to get up, move around, work my stiff limbs again. I slide my feet of the side of my bed and calmly walk over to my dreser. I peel off my night dress and quickly change into a midnight black skirt and a pearl white blouse. Reaping clothes. I look across the room, my older sister, Digit, is fast asleep, her leg braces set at the side of her bed. Well, technically, she wasn't actually my sister, but I still considered her one.

About eight years ago, when I was still living with my parents, my real parents, they had to give my up for adoption. We were poor, to poor. I guess the cost of having a child was to much for them. I don't what happened to them. Maybe they were able to get better jobs, earn more money and work themselves out of poverty. Or maybe they are still poor, still living in poverty, missing me, their only child. Or maybe, at this point, they have starved to death. I'll probably never know. The orphanage was terrible, even though I was there for only about a week, two weeks. Fear would follow you everywhere, angry hands would find contact with your face by at least the end of the day. It's terrifying, really.

That's when Digit's family adopted me. I became their daughter, no questions asked. Digit became my older sister. I became part of their family that day. My "mother" was shopkeeper. My "father" was a tech designer. They were my family. My only family.

"Digit, wake up!" I say, violently shaking her shoulder.

"Five more minutes!"

"Come on! Today's the Reaping!" I reply. Digit sits up almost instantly, her face paled.

"I forgot," she gasps. "I totally forgot."

She slogs out of bed and slips her leg braces. You see, she has a rare desease that has paralyzed both of her legs from the calf down. Of course, there is a cure, but it is much to expensive for us. Maybe, just maybe, one day we could earn enough money for Digit. Just one day.

**Alexandrix Coastline POV**

I wake up, my back stiff from sleeping on the cold, hard prison beds. Seeing those metal bars infront of me every day reminds me that I'm a monster. I'm criminal.

I'm a killer.

I don't have anyone who loves me, I killed them. I had two parents who loved me, a sweet eleven year old sister, Angelina, but their gone. And it's my fault. It was my temper that took control me, and well, I killed them. That leads to where I am today, chained to a wall, bound in handcuffs, wearing a bright orange prison uniform.

"So when do we execute them?" a rough voice says. I jump with a startle, not expecting the peacekeepers' rough voice.

"A week from today, we execute Monaghan, Baxter, Coastline, and Dixon," the other says. Oh well, I didn't know anyone here with the last name Monaghan, Baxter, Dixon, or Coastline. Wait! Did they say Coastline?! Oh, no. No, no, no no! Their going to execute me! I feel my insides drop. 'What am I going to do?' I think. 'What I am going to do?'

Wait! They said after the reaping. Hmm... I'm fast, I'm strong, maybe, just, maybe I can win. I decide that I will volunteer for the Hunger Games. Sure, I'm basically throwing myself in the middle of a death match, but I have what it takes to win. If I do win, they can't execute me, right? Even if I don't win, even I if die, it's not like I have anyone at home that would miss me. I will volunteer for the 51st Annual Hunger Games.

**Dayta Pacific POV**

"Come on! We're going to be late!" I shout to my parents, who are busy working away on the computer. Father sighs as he slams the computer shut and walks over to the doorway, where Digit and I are waiting, mother following. The walk to the square is short; I could probably jog from my house to there, and be back home in only fifteen minutes, tops. Noboby dares speak, I guess we were all much to nervous. Digit and I get our fingers pricked, and walk to our sections. I stare at that glass bowl, the thousands of tiny paper slips. The one slip that will be pulled from the pile could will change someone's fate forever.

"Hello District Three! And Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" exclaims Stefanianna, our bubbly capitol escort says, bursting with glee, a horrible kind of glee.

"Now, as always ladies first." I feel my heart sink as she fishes a name from the very bottom of the girls reaping ball and prances back to the microphone. I am nearly crushed with pure terror as she unfolds the slip and reads in a loud, clear voice,

"Digit Pacific."

And it wasn't me, or one of my friends from school, or even a classmate. It was my older sister, my crippled older sister. I am nearly knocked off my feet with pure horror as I watch her slowly limp from the sixteen year old section. No, I can't let this happen. I can't let Digit go into that arena. Not after all her family as done for me.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I shout. I calmly walk from my section, and all eyes are glued to me. They must think I'm stupid, a fool for volunteering. Or maybe they think I am brave, a hero for saving a crippled sixteen year old girl. I swear, I see one twelve year old boy give me a three finger salute. I stumble onto stage, my stomach twisted into a nervous knot. Because I am going into the arena.

**Alexandrix Coastline POV**

I watch as a short fourteen year old girl lunges foward to volunteer for a crippled girl that looked about my age. The girl who originally got reaped didn't look like she'd be able to win, and I can probably tell from the looks of it, I could say the same about this girl. The girl who volunteered is short, and slightly chubby with blonde hair and blue eyes. But I won't be the only District Three volunteer in these games. Interesting...

"What's your name, dear," the escort, Stefianna or whatever asks as soon as the girl reaches the stage.

"Dayta Pacific." the girl replys, her voice quivers with fear.

"Well Splendid! Now let's pick a male to join Dayta," she says. She picks a name from the boys reaping ball and zips back to the microphone.

"Flash Oliver." she annonces. 'This is my cue', I think.

"I volunteer!" I yell, for all of Panem to hear. I stide calmly to stage, even though my hands are bound behind my back.

"Why just look that! Two volunteers, that's the spirit of the games!" she exclaims.

"What's your name young man?" she asks.

"Alexandrix Coastline." I mutter.

"Lovely! Now shake hand you two." Stefianna commands in a perky voice. A nearby peacekeeper uncuff my hands. I flex my stiff wrists, it seems it has been ages since my hands have been freed. I shake hands with Dayta, her icey blue eyes wide with fear. It seems the games have already begun.

**And that's District Three! Hope you enjoyed. Before I get to Review questions I have a quick authors note. **

**Okay, so I'll be out of town for a couple of weeks, so my next update will probably be in about two weeks (sorry!)**

**Okay, time for Review Questions:**

**1. Favorite of the Two?**

**2. Top Three Tributes so far.**


	6. Where My Demons Hide

**hey guys! Sorry for the late update! I've been out of town. Man, it's good to be back! Anyway here's District Four!**

**Alexis Carter POV**

The sun rises, casting a pink shadow across the ocean, painting the sky numerous colors. Soft pink. Baby blue. A light orange color. It's beautiful, really. It takes away from the rest of the sights of our small, smelly fishing village. You could see from the cumbling stone buildings and the old, wooden trading posts that this isn't exactly the part of District Four with all the fancy training centers. No. Of course, I still trained. No, I wasn't planing on volunteering or anything like that. I only began trainin with Kaleem just in case I was ever reaped and no one was brave enough to volunteer.

"Alexis!" a voice calls out, breaking the morning's eery silence. I reconize it as Kaleem, my eighteen year old brother. I scramble from the edge of my opened window, nearly plummeting fifty feet to the ground in the process.

"I'm coming!" I yell in reply.

I rush downstairs in a mad dash and burst through the front door. It is not until I am almost in the small celler we own, it occures to me how loud I am being. Stupid! How stupid! If I attract the attention of my parents I'm good as dead. Even though the sun has only begun to rise, there is all most no doubt that they are out fishing for tonight's dinner. If they ever found out I secretly trained with Kaleem, well, let's just say the odds would not be in my favor.

I open the wooden cellar door, the icy air hits me like a slap in the face. True, it isn't much better out here in the chilly morning air, but the cellar is maybe three times worse.

I walk carefully down the damp,fraigle stone steps, careful to miss the weak spots. Before I am even fully in the cellar, a small grunt rings out, and a wooden spear hurdles toward a makeshift dummy that is pinned against the wall. The spear strikes the dummy's lower abdomen, not a bullseye, but still futile.

I appraoch Kaleem, who is explaining something to my younger brother, Fillip, as he runs to retierve the spear from the dummy's stomach. I have a younger sister too, Alannah. But she refused to train. And once she makes up her mind, it's impossible to get her to change her mind.

"So, do want to start training before the reaping?" Kaleem asks. I nod.

**Claudia Dell POV**

I walk into the bathroom sleepily, still dazed from waking up. Sitting on the shelf is my infamous razor blade. Okay, so maybe that was an overstatement. Noboby knows about what I tried to do. Twice.

Only me.

They call me bipolar, and, well, I guess I am. I don't even bother to argue. But still, noboby knows about my secret, about the true demons that lurk inside of me, the curling waves of depression that would strike me out of nowhere.

What's that you say? You want to know?

Fine, but you have to promise never to tell.

I have tried to, with that faithful razor, slit my own wrist. I don't consider it suicide or "killing myself", I consider it ending my life. Plus, it's not like I was trying to end someone else's life. It was my own.

I peel off my nightgown and quickly change into a white shirt and jeans. I stop for a moment to pull my bright red hair into a messy bun. I always hated the dark brown color in used to be, so when I turned thirteen, I dyed into a firey red color.

"Claudia, it's almost time for the reaping!" mother calls.

"I'm coming!" I snap, making sure that I am cleary annoyed.

I run downstairs, and catch up with my mother and father, who stand impatently by the door.

"Come on Claudia, it's almost one o' clock," Dad says, clearly annoyed that I took so much time to get ready.

I cross my arms and follow them out the door. The walk goes by quickly and wordlessly as we rush down the streets of District Four, passing training centers and houses on the way. Finally, we get to the square, I get my finger pricked, and I go stand with the rest of the fifteen year olds in District Four. Most wear horrible smirks. But I don't I and I know I never will. I only trained in case I was ever reaped and no one volunteered. My eyes flit to the girl's reaping ball. My name is only in there four times, not nearly enough to worry about. But I just hope the odds are in my favor today.

**Alexis Carter POV**

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" exclaims our escort, Troilus, a disgusting looking man with sickly green skin, sky blue hair, and voilet eyes. I begin to squirm as he reads the long, dull Treaty of Treason. Oh, how I hate standing in one place.

"Now let's pick our boy tribute!" Troilus thrills after a long babble about what an honor it is to be here. He skips over to the boy's ball and plucks one from the very top. I think of Kaleem's thirty-five names in that bowl. Then I think of my twenty-five. The odds are not in our favor.

"Fillip Carter."

The name hits me like a hundred bricks. And it wasn't even mine. It wasn't Kaleem. It was my thirteen year old brother. Although he had trained, Fillip wouldn't survive the games. But I could.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

The words escape my mouth before I could even think them through. But I don't regret them. He's my little brother after all.

**Claudia Dell POV**

I watch as a boy who looked a little older than me step foward for some thirteen year old kid. The boy had short brown hair and dark brown eyes with olive skin. He is quite hansome.

"Why, what a brave young man! What's your name, son?" Troilus asks.

"Alexis Carter." The boy states plainly.

"Well it seems we have a family affair, but more excitment is to come, because now it is time to select our female tribute!" Troilus exclaims, nearly bawling over with excitment. I roll my eyes at his silly capitol accent. Troilus yanks a tightly sealed slip of paper from the middle of the pile.

It's not me, It's not me, It's not me.

"Claudia Dell."

Oh, no. It's me.

**Alexis Carter POV**

A tall girl called Claudia steps from the fifteen year old section. She doesn't look like she is fifteen, since she is tall enough to be sixteen or seventeen. The girl has bright red hair and porcelain skin. And her eyes, her eyes were strange.

They weren't blue or grey or green or brown. No. They much more unique. They had tints of all the colors. Blue, green, black, gold, even purple. They were definatly strange.

When she mounts the stage I see something esle in her eyes though. And it wasn't some sort of strange color. It was fear.

**I hope you liked this chapter! I'll try to get District Five up as soon as possible. **

**Review Questions:**

**1. Favorite of the two?**

**2. Top three\four tributes so far**

**Question of the Day: Who is your favorite hunger games character?**


	7. Silence Has A Cost

**Melanie Durswell POV**

I sit alone at a small, empty table, in a drafty corner at the very back of the dining hall, almost completely iscolated from the rest of my fellow orphans. I feel my back begin to stiffen, the muscles in my legs cramp. Most children who are in my situation would probably begin to mope about how their life must suck and all that crap, it was different for me. I was used to it. But to be honest, I was miserable.

Of course, I used to be an ordinary girl, who lived with their parents, before I ended up in this damned group home. I used to be able to speak, talk, and laugh. Now all I do if sit by and watch as others interact, mocking me, taking their gift of speech for granted. But that's a long story.

But if you have time, sure I'll explain.

It happened about nine years ago, when I was only four years old. I remember waking to the sound of screams, a woman's scream. Little did I expect at the moment that it was mother's scream. I don't exactly remember my mother, but what I saw in just those matter of minutes will forever stay carved in my memory. I stumble curiously downstairs, unaware of what was happening. The first thing I saw was blood. A large dark crimson puddle of liquid. Spilling across the wooden floor is my mother's long, thick black hair. And standing above her is my father, a large, blood stained butcher knife in his hand, a wild look in his bright green eyes. I just stood there, frozen in my place, wide-eyed, fear coursing through my veins, a large pit in my stomach begining to open. I clasp my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out.

"This is what you get Mary-Jane!" Father yells, slurring like a drunk. He brings down the weapon on her abdomenn.

"No! Mother, No!" I scream, tears streaking down my face, my eyes are downcast, staring in horror at my mother's dead body. There are countless stab wounds all over her shoulders, chest, abdomenn, and legs. You can easy tell that he beaten her, due to all the bruises and gashes on her face.

Father looks in my direction, startled at first, but his expression soon darkens. He lunges in my direction, knife raised, ready for attack. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the blow, praying that my oncoming death with be quick.

But it never comes. I risk a small peek through my half closed eyes. As if on cue, a group of peacekeepers have arrived at my rescue, and have already arrested my father. So that leads to where I am today. My mother, a victim of my father, and lord knows, I could onlly imagine where father is today.

**Johnson Pierre POV**

I walk down the aisle of houses in the victor's village, the brisk air stinging my cheeks. I walk to the front steps of a grand house, much richer than any other building you would see in District Five, next to Victoria Brytes', the victor of the 38th Annual Hunger Games. And before you ask, no I am not a victor.

You see, my cousin, Mical, was reaped for the 40th Hunger Games, when I was four, and suprisingly, won. No one expected him to come home as victor, to be the one out of twenty-three tributes to survive. I could see how they thought that. He wasn't a total brute, like the tributes from District Two, but wasn't a complete mess either. He wasn't as fast as other tribtes, but he could still run. He won by using survival skills he had learned in the training center in the Capitol, only killing when he had to. Some say it was a miracle he won. He beat all the odds stacked against him.

In the end of the games he had only killed two tributes, The girl from District Ten called Jenerva, who had tried to kill his twelve year old District partner and ally, Elisia Mae, and the boy from District Two in the finale. Of course, I will never follow in his footsteps. I look up him, I respect him, but I'll never follow in his footsteps. Even if I am ever reaped, I don't think I will ever be able to bring myself to kill anyone, even when nesscesary.

I knock on the door, an a heartbeat later Mical answers.

"Hey Johnson, what's up?" he asks.

"Nothing much, you?" I reply.

"Well, I have to get ready for the reaping in a couple minutes."

I gasp. I comepletely forgot about the reaping. A wave of panic goes through me and palms break out in a cold sweat. Just the mere mention of the reaping sends a chill down my spine. I check my watch.

12:01

"Aw man, I completely forgot about the reaping. I gotta go," I punchuate my unhappy statment with an annoyed scowl.

"Ok, bye Johnson. Good luck at the reaping," Mical says.

"G'bye"

I begin to walk home, and then I look at my watch again.

12:03

Then I begin to run.

**Melanie Durswell POV**  
"C'mon you little brats! Get a move on!" Mrs. Wreed one of the women who run the group home. I scramble to my feet, and quickly change into an old, worn blue dress that barely fits me and run downstairs. I look at the clock that hangs on the wall.

12:06

Crap! Time had gotten away from me, I must have been lost in thought again. Then someone approaches me. Mrs. Wreed. A giant, at least five foot eight with an old, saggy face and grey hair, and lifeless grey eyes.

"I hope you reaped today, Durswell," she coldly, before walking away. She hates me. More she hates the other children here. And I hate her.

** _Flashback**_

_I walk down the long, thin hallway, the pictures on the wall stare at me, piercing me through. I was lost. Great. Even though I've been here longer than most of the other kids, the group home was a twisting maze. I was lost often. There! Mrs. Wreed's office. Surely she would direct me back to Dorm 16. Or punish me for being out after 7:30._

_I turn the door knob slowly. There, in that room was something I would witness that would change my life forever. A boy who looked roughly my age (which was twelve at the time in case you where wondering.), but a little younger, was bent over, several lashes in his back. And the keeper of the whip Mrs. Wreed was standing behind him, screaming bloody murder. A small gasp escapes my throat. Stupid! That had to be the most vile mistake I have ever made._

_Her head snaps in my direction, and before I even know what's happening, she is backing me up aganst the wall and holding her whip in my direction._

_"You," she bellowed. "I'm going to kill you!"_

_"Please, I won't tell anyone, I promise!" I plead, tears steaming down my face. This can't be happening. This had to be some kind of nightmere. But no. This was reality._

_"I'm going kill you!" Mrs. Wreed screeches._

_"No! NO! Please don't!" _

_She thinks for a while, debating on whether she should kill me, or spare me._

_"Fine, but silence always has a cost. I have to make sure you'll keep your mouth shut." she says._

_With that she takes out a small pocket knife, and begins sawing at my tongue. The details are much to grusome to describe. But let's just say, I never spoke again, ever since that faithful day. No, not because I was traumatized or anything. I was forced ino silence. I was turned into a tongueless mute that day._

_That is why I will forever be seen, but never heard. _

_**Flashback**_

**Johnson Pierre POV**

I race through the streets of District Five, my legs pound against the cracked pavement sidewalk, my parents following. Finally, we get to the square.

"I love you, Mom," I say as I pull her into a quick embrace.

"I love you to, Johnson, remember, you won't reaped," mother says as she puts her hand on my shoulder, in a conforting way. I quickly hug my father before stepping into line to get my finger pricked. I keep telling myself not to worry, my name's only in there four times. But I am related to Mical, and with him being a victor, there is almost no doubt that it has been rigged, that my name is in there more than it should.

I get my finger pricked and walk swiftly to the fifteen yeat old's section.

Oh, how I hope the odds are in my favor.

**Melanie Durswell POV**

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds, be ever in your favor!" Squeaks our much-too-perky escort, a woman called Aoifa or something. This year, she is wearing a strange, multi-colored dress with matching makeup, hair, and shoes. I guess it's one of the new "trends" in the capitol, but really she looks like a bunch of crayons that were left out in the sun and melted together.

"Now it is my honor the select our male and female tribute to compete in the fifty-first annual Hunger Games! As always, lady's first," she exclaims. My fists tremble with fear, and I break out in a cold sweat. It could. I could be selected to die. It could be anyone.

"Come up here dearie, don't be shy." Aoifa says. I snap back to my senses. Crud! I must have been consumed in my thoughts again, a terrible habbit of mine.

"Um, Melanie Durswell?" Aoifa repeats, obviously confused. I clap both of my hands over my mouth, to keep from crying out.

It was me.

**Johnson Pierre POV**

A tall girl with straight black hair approaches from the thirteen-year-olds section. Anger wells up in my chest. I hate when young kids get reaped. It's never fair for them, and most of the time, the odds aren't exactly in their favor. The girl's name is Melanie Durswell if I remembered correctly. I look up on stage, the girl, Melanie is crying silent tears, but escort doesn't seem to notice. I sigh. Poor Melanie.

"And now for our male tribute!"

I inhale deeply as she selects a slip from the middle of the pile. I clutch hands into fists. 'it won't be me,' I tell myself. 'It won't be me.'

The escort reads over the name, hesitates, then shoots Mical an apologetic look. Oh,no. This can't be good.

"Johnson Pierre."

Everything seems to stop for a moment. Then reality strikes me out no where. She just called my name. I was just reaped. I'm going to die. Oh god.

The other kids clear a path for me, parting like the red sea. All eyes are suddenly trained on me. Just seconds ago, I was just another kid waiting for the names to be called, but now I am the center attention. I take a small step foward, my knees barely strong enough to handle my own weight. Finally I make my way to the stage.

"Are there any volunteers?" the escort asks stupidly. Oh course there aren't any. But still, the extinguish I felt when no one stepped foward. Maybe I was hoping some one would volunteer. And Melanie- she's only thirteen. Some one should have volunteered for her. There are older girls who would stand much more of a chance. But no.

"No?" She doesn't understand that no one in their right mind would want the "honor" of representting their District in the Hunger Games.

Then we are instructed to shake hands. And with that, my almost certain death has been confirmed.


End file.
